In which Sid and Doris have a high paw day climbing from Arbatax, Sardinia, at sea level, to the Glenna Silana col at 1016 metres and ride on to Dorgali to make a 73 k day with 1193 meters of climb.
We both had misgivings about this route, lying awake on the boat, thinking about what food we had and what water might be available on the road. But fortunately there is not too long to agonise as we get up at 3.30 and dock at 5.00am (not at 4.00 as we had been told several times by the lying toads). We are by now Old Hands at disembarking with bikes from Mediterranean ferries, which means that you must mix it in with the lorries and smile and wave hopefully at everyone while hoping not to die from crush injuries.
Anyway having bought our boat breakfast and some lunch from Dick Turpin we soon find that an enterprising cafe is open just off the dock and all the regulars go in there. As we do not care to cycle in the dark, so do we. The dawn dawns… it’s cool and clear, a perfect day to go cycling.
After fiddling about to find an ATM we leave Tortoli at about 7ish. The Rodent Collective [aka “S” and his adventure tricycle companions – D.] loves this time of day and we are riding before the land is baked. Then we are climbing. The rush hour is not too intense, mostly sharing the road with the bin men and some people rushing down the mountain to get to work in the town. The road goes up, the traffic is light, the road is smooth, happiness is intense. We begin to see a lot of riders out for a morning spin, some on mountain bikes, none with luggage.
After a while we can see why the road surface is so lovely, this has been a Giro d”Italia stage. Come on Tom du Moulin painted on the road. In Baunei we stop for coffee and fruits of the forest turnovers, soon joined by a leathery gent with a bright white Colnago carbon bike with which he is very pleased. It probably weighs a bit less than 7 kilograms. And I think he has been practising, which spoils the fun. (ref: Flanders and Swan, Song of Patriotic Prejudice).
We climb on up to a really magical section of road. So great, in fact, that we stop to photograph a milestone at 162.8km of road SS125 as a #virtualsouvenir… and then realise that there is actually a spare milestone that we could have had as a real souvenir for “S”s lucky stone collection. [Tough luck dude, we’re not dragging that all the way home – D.]
We ride on in majesty [“…in lowly pomp ride on to die”? Really? – D.], stopping to admire the enormous views and great road engineering, and wave at more Wiry Gents. Doris points out she is still the only woman on the hill. We get to the col cafe by 11.45 and of course say sensible things about the benefit of an early start, as if this will make any difference to our future behaviour. Also, we do finally find another woman rider. Mostly we find cars and motor homes of many nations (some with bikes on racks, hah) and a bus from Serbia. We say how much we enjoyed their country (and Sid does not mention his view of Belgrade because at heart he is quite nice) [and also we did genuinely enjoy Novi Sad – D].
We take a picture of the sticker-laden col sign, we take a drink and head onwards. By the time we swoop into Dorgali we know we are bonkers with dehydration and foodlessness, even though we have mostly been descending. The town is hilly and we are easily confused, struggling to find the “town centre” as every one-way street funnels us down away from the cafes and towards dusty bypass roads. Eventually we climb our way grimly back into the centre, find a traiteur and restore what passes (in Sid and Doris) for normal thinking.
We have made it in good style. S is very impressed with our full use of his Extreme Energy Conservation technique.
Our hotel is a mile away. We have a small suite with terrace and all the trimmings. The washing goes into the whirlpool bath which (once the whirlpool function is switched on to aid with the rinsing) seems strangely reluctant to part with one of Sid’s socks which have been sucked into a jet intake.
Also the plumbers have installed the retractable body-washing wand (now called Vlad The Impaler) on the bit of the bath you have to stand astride to get in for a shower. Sid and Doris hang on to the shower screen nervously as the A&E staff are probably quite word-weary with people turning up with shower wands stuck in obscure parts of their anatomy.
The bed seems quite sturdy (after the ferry and collapsing beds of the previous two nights) and we make up for the early start with our first siesta. Before our second siesta.
We are now booked into Nielsons’ holiday camp from Friday. Hurrah. Perhaps we will get up early to make the journey?